I ran the Boston Marathon in 3:46:05 on Monday, which snagged me the win in the women's T35-38 division for a second year. The whole weekend was wonderful and memorable, though the marathon itself was possibly the hardest I've ever finished.
***
I was really excited last fall to be invited to compete at Boston 2025 as a member of the professional para-athlete field. I had already planned to return to Boston in 2025, both because it is a special race and because the BAA does so much to promote para-athletics and adaptive sports and I want to support them in return. But being added to the professional field just made it that much more meaningful. Pretty much a dream come true.
My training cycle began in January, after I recovered from an ill-timed bout of Covid 19 that forced me to skip the Houston Marathon. I thought that I could take my fitness from the Houston training cycle, add onto that for Boston, and take a shot at lowering my course record from last year.
However, life got in the way. For multiple reasons, this spring's theme was stress and sleep deprivation, and the sleep I did get was poor quality. Numerous unavoidable non-running obligations forced me to reduce the time I spent on training or doing the Parkinsons-specific exercises that help me manage things. My long runs went well, but volume is the true backbone of marathon training, and mine was about 1/2 to 2/3rds of what I consider sufficient for a marathon. Sometimes, it's just not the right time in your life to train for a marathon. And that certainly described this spring.
Had it been any other marathon, I would have pulled the plug and focused on shorter distances until life got simpler. But this wasn't any marathon - this was Boston and the para-athlete division. It was really important to me to show up and give it my best effort if at all possible. So I flew into Boston on Friday morning, hoping that lifetime mileage, experience, and stubbornness would compensate for deficient training. And that an early bedtime on Friday would balance out my lack of sleep the past few days due to various non-running stuff.
The flight went smoothly, and by early afternoon I was happily ensconced in a nice hotel in downtown Boston, with a stomach full of Chipotle and a large pile of assorted gluten-free breads from Trader Joes on the hotel dresser.
***
I tried several new things this cycle. One was including in my taper both a 10 miler (raced all out) two weeks out from the marathon and a 5K two days out from the marathon. The 10 miler was Cherry Blossom - historically one of my favorite races of the year. The 5K was the Boston 5K (more on that later). Adding these races meant I had to tweak my marathon taper.
Since getting diagnosed with Parkinsons, I've discovered that the best marathon taper for me looks much more like a 10K taper than a marathon taper. I don't reduce the volume that much in term of either overall mileage or workout volume. The smoother and more "normal" the taper, the better my body behaves on race day. Additionally, I manage my Parkinsons with medications (legal under USADA) that have to be carefully calibrated - too much or too little both result in crampy muscles that don't listen. When I cut my volume, the "right" dose can also change. Or maybe not. Frustratingly, it can be random. So it's really better to keep things consistent.
The net result is that keeping my taper active works best for me. However, since I was running both the 10 miler and the 5K during taper, I decided to break my own rule and rest more. I suspected this would flare things but hoped that the harder efforts of the 10 miler and 5K would balance this out.
***
Unsurprisingly, I was pretty stiff and awkward when I woke for the Boston 5K on Saturday. The race started just after 8 am, so I planned to pop a Rytary at 6:30 am before warming up. Unfortunately, upon opening my pill case, I realized that it held two Rytary capsules - the one that I had popped in last night, and an identical (in appearance) capsule that had sat in that container for several months.
I had a 50/50 chance of taking the new capsule, so I picked one, popped it, and chugged some water. Chatted some more with others and then headed out for a warm-up jog around 7. My legs were notably stiff and didn't loosen up during my two mile warm-up fartlek, but I wrote it off as not having run long enough. My plan was to run the 5K as a progression down to marathon pace. That would give my legs a chance to loosen up a bit on the first mile, while also hopefully being fast enough to win it or at least earn some prize money while not compromising my race on Monday.
The para field started the 5K three minutes behind the professional women, and so we were walked up to the start ahead of the main race field. Waiting for the starting gun gave me a chance to chat with some other para-athletes, including several that I had previously connected with online - Ashley and Julia. Julia clued me in that we actually had six (SIX!) T35-38 women* entered in the race. This was excellent news (though it admittedly reduced my chances for prize money). It didn't change my plan, though. The marathon was my main focus.
***
[For those not familiar with para-athletics - T35-38 is the category for coordination-impaired (neurologic) athletes - essentially cerebral palsy, brain injury, MS, Parkinsons, and similar. There's actually four different divisions - T35, T36, T37, and T38, each corresponding to a level of impairment (T35 is the most impaired, T38 the least). At Boston the four divisions are currently combined into one group called T35-38. It's similar to dividing age groups into 20 year groups rather than 5 year groups. As a T36 I'm supposedly at a disadvantage against the T37s and T38s. Personally, I'm not too bothered - I'm just so happy to have this opportunity at all.]
***
The 5K, alas, did not go well. I expected my legs to loosen during the course of the race, but they never did. I ran 25:55 (split as 8:20/8:11/8:30) with the restraint coming not from strategy but from my own muscles. It was also far more tiring than I had expected. Running requires a lot of concentration, and I hadn't anticipated how hard I would work mentally to stay on my feet while running 3 miles on uneven roads with crowds of much faster runners (the main field) powering past me from behind. The race also took a physical toll despite the conservative pace - running when my legs are locked is basically a prolonged isometric contraction, with the quads and hamstrings and glutes all fighting each other.
The end result was that the 5K had cost me some reserves. Fortunately, I had 48 hours to replenish. And my run was good enough for third place and $250 in prize money - enough to cover my Chipotle consumption for the weekend and then some.
***
After heading back to my hotel for a shower and change of clothes, I popped another Rytary. Within 20 minutes my legs were nice and relaxed - confirmation that I had indeed chosen the wrong pill earlier and might be undermedicated in general. Oh well, I'd try to avoid that mistake on Monday.
I used my newly loosened legs to walk to the Boylston Street Chipotle to pick up my order. This was my second visit to this Chipotle, and I was still shaken from what I had seen there the day before.
When I saw this sign on Friday, I first assumed that the closure was limited to this storefront, but the staff told me that all Chipotles in Massachusetts would be closed on Sunday. An internet search later confirmed that all Chipotles across the US would be closed for Easter (but be open on Monday, April 21) (which was absolutely no use to me).
So on Saturday, I bought an extra bowl of Chipotle to keep in my hotel fridge. For emergency use, of course. But day-old cold Chipotle isn't terribly appetizing, and I also was worried about potential food poisoning (the hotel fridge wasn't very cold). I needed another option.
***
The rule is nothing new on race weekend, but I had no choice. What I did have was a Qdoba franchise near a Green line stop. I'd never eaten Qdoba before, but a quick check of the internet indicated that it was reliably gluten free, similar to (and arguably better than) Chipotle, and most importantly, open on Easter.
So Qdoba it was. Late Sunday morning, I took the Green line to Lechmere to do my shakeout jog there away from the bustle and excitement of downtown Boston and 1001 influencer shakeout runs. It was extraordinarily windy, to the point where I settled for jogging back and forth behind a building - any time the wind hit me full blast it was hard to stay on my feet. I was extraordinarily grateful that the marathon was on Monday.
After my shakeout, I grabbed my
Chipotle Qdoba on the way back and then settled into my room. I had planned to head over to the expo that afternoon to hear some speakers, but I reluctantly shelved that plan in favor of resting. I could tell that I had already done too much this weekend and needed some solitude.
***
Race day morning was far simpler than last year, when I was nervously counting on a taxi showing up. As a member of the professional field, I had the luxury of staying in a hotel right by the finish line, and so it was easy to meet the 5:30 am deadline for getting to the para-athlete check-in.
Like last year, we had slightly less than an hour to hang out before being loaded onto buses to the start. My understanding is that this time was used for final checks for other para-athletes - examining wheelchairs, prosthetics, guide ropes, etc to check compliance with para-athletics rules. As a coordination-impaired athlete, I didn't have anything that needed to be checked, so it was just stretching/chatting time.
This time gave me an opportunity to meet my closest competition in the marathon - a woman named Faye who had MS and had just been classified as a T37. It was really interesting to compare notes about running with MS versus Parkinsons - we each faced obstacles that were the inverse of the other's. Her symptoms really flare in warmth; my muscles get extremely tight when I'm cold. When structuring her training, she has to be careful not to push any workout too hard, lest she aggravate her MS. In contrast, like most people with PD the harder I train the better I feel; inactivity and rest make me stiff and clumsy.
Faye and I chatted in the hotel lobby and then on the bus, making the nearly hour long trip to Hopkinton seem much shorter. While on the road to Hopkinton, I noted that our bus had a bathroom. Of all the kind things that the BAA does for the para-athletes, this was perhaps one of the best.
***
We arrived in Hopkinton about 7:20 am - well in advance of the main Boston field. (As best I can tell, the BAA ships the elites and the para-athletes up to our tents near the start line in Hopkinton and then assembles Athlete's Village behind us after we've arrived.) I stayed in the tent for a while, stretching and chatting with friends both old and new, including Joe Drake (last year's men's T35-38 winner, soon to be this year's men's T35-38 winner) and multiple members of the "Parkinsons Fight Club." Then I headed out for my warm-up jog at 8:30.
The warm-up area was a stretch of road with a gentle but notable elevation change that was shared by elites and para-athletes. As I jogged, I mentally rehearsed the cues that help me run downhill (pressing hips forward, look ahead not down, let the ground fall away from you, keep your hips and ankles loose). A bit less than 10 minutes had me feeling ready for the downhill start (though not ready to run at marathon effort, but hopefully that would come later). Then I walked back to the tent and tossed down a gel and another bottle of water while waiting to be called to the start.
***
Like last year, we walked to the start just behind the elite women. At 9:47 they started, and we were walked to the start line. As I stood there, I took a second to absorb it all. Here I was, standing on the front line of the Boston Marathon with my first name on my bib. I snapped a mental photograph, tucked it away in my memory as a precious keepsake, and then turned my attention to the upcoming race.
The gun went off, and my mind immediately went to my downhill running cues. As I cycled through them, I noted that I was handling the very steep initial drop of the Boston course much better than I had last year, so that was a win. Several other T35-38 athletes, including Faye, were pulling ahead on the left, but I mentally let them go and prioritized running the first half-mile with as little stress or damage to my quads as possible.
My attention was solidly focused on a) my downhill running form cues and b) where my competition was. So it was a surprise when my Garmin vibrated a few minutes into the race. I looked at it quickly and realized that I hadn't started it. I fixed that error and then moved on - fortunately I don't rely on my watch when I run, so starting my watch late was an annoyance rather than an issue.
The first 3 miles of Boston have some steep drops, and I stuck to my careful plan here, both as a race strategy and due to neurological limitation. I noted Faye pulling further away - she was wearing a distinctive striped singlet that I hoped would make her easier to pick out later in the race (I also hoped I would see her later in the race).
***
Just as I started to feel more comfortable, a lead bike pulled up and advised that Wave 1 was coming, and that I should choose a side of the road to stay on. I chose right this year for three reasons - a) when a road is cambered, I'm slightly more comfortable if the left side is higher than the right; b) I was already on the right side of the road for that reason; and c) I had run on the left side last year, so why not mix things up?
In retrospect, this was a mistake, and I'll choose the left side of the road next year. Boston is notorious for its massive, wonderful, supportive crowds. As part of that support, they like to wave their hands in front of the runners or reach out for a high five. Which is great and awesome, unless you're someone with iffy balance that gets thrown off by stuff waving in your face. (To be clear, I'm not saying that the crowds should change their behavior at all - this is just part of running Boston as a T36 para-athlete.) The crowds at Boston seem heavier on the right side of the road, making the left the better choice for me.
The right shoulder of the road seemed to have much rougher pavement, with multiple grates and grills that I had to swerve around. It also seemed like the majority of the water stations were on the right side of the road. Since I was carrying a water bottle, I had no need for those early water stations myself. However, I was an obstacle between much faster wave one runners and their water, and each water station was challenging to navigate between the hands waving cups in my face from the right and the runners ducking in front of me from the left. It wasn't fun for me, and I'm sure the wave one runners didn't appreciate it either (I know I wouldn't have).
After a few miles of chaos, things got a little easier as my pace picked up and the paces of those passing me slowed. I had planned to keep the effort moderate until mile 6 or so. But...just as I started to think about increasing the effort, I realized that I had caught up to Faye. Since we had 20 miles of challenging course ahead I decided that I could stay moderate for now. My breathing was also getting a bit ragged (Boston spring pollen) and that was another reason to stay conservative.
***
My right foot had started burning slightly about a mile into the race, and by mile 9 it was feeling sore - like my shoe was a bit too tight. With 18+ miles still to go, I decided to step off the course and fix my shoe. Fixing my shoe took about 40 seconds, and I knew that Faye might have passed me back during that time. When I stepped back onto the course, I looked for her distinctive singlet. And realized that there were quite a few women her height with a ponytail wearing that striped singlet. Oops.
There was nothing to do but run my own race and hope that either she was behind me or that she would come back to me.
By mile 9, moderate effort was feeling like moderate+. One of my big rules for marathoning is that I need to feel good at mile 13, so I resisted the urge to chase women in striped singlets and just held my effort. Even with that decision, my right back started to cramp at mile 12. Uh-oh. My best strategy was to stay on top of my salty gels and my water, and also try to stay as relaxed as possible, so that's what I did. Mentally, I started lamenting my lack of training before replacing that thought with appreciation for the nice weather. Reciting reasons why you're going to have a bad race is never a good idea, either before or during the race.
***
I held tough as more muscles started to cramp. I'm used to running through a bit of cramping, so I just relied on that skill to keep going. But the Newton hills sent my body further into a tailspin. When you're having a good day, those hills aren't that bad. If you're NOT having a good day....
I suspected that the cramping might have been my Rytary wearing off early, so I popped a levodopa pill (fast acting version of Rytary). Either that was the wrong decision or it was ineffective (I'm leaning towards the former), because about 10 minutes later the cramping had intensified to the point where I was hobble-shuffling more than running.
I had no idea where Faye was, and that was no longer a focus. I just wanted to get to the finish line as fast as my revolting legs would let me. And so I worked my way there. When we made the final turn onto Boylston Street, I tried to pick things up and fake good form for the cameras, but it wasn't happening. My calves and the soles of my feet were completely contracted with my toes curling under my feet.
As I worked my way to the finish line, I suddenly felt a big shove from behind. It felt like someone had placed their hand on my upper back and intentionally pushed me forward. I don't think that's what actually happened, both because I can't imagine why anyone would do that and because I think few people are coordinated and composed enough at mile 26 of a marathon to do that. It was almost certainly accidental contact by someone else who was also struggling.
But it felt like a big shove, and between my poor balance and my completely cramped legs and feet I almost went down. After several flailing steps I managed to grab hold of the security fencing just to the right and stabilize myself. And then I continued my shuffle to the finish line.
***
As I crossed, I once again saw "Congratulations - Cristina Burbach" flash across the chyron. I hoped that meant that I had won my division, but I wasn't sure. I was immediately intercepted by a race official upon crossing (I guess I looked as bad as I felt) and some very nice people walked me over to the tent where my bag was, which happened to share an awning with the med tent.
I retrieved my bag and sat for about 15 minutes. A BAA official that regularly works with the para-athletes came over to check on me and confirmed that I had won my division. So that brightened my mood somewhat. If only the cramping would stop.
After the fifth or sixth person asked me whether I wanted to go to the med tent (and reassurance that the med tent was not at all busy) I decided to go. I sat there for another 40 minutes or so drinking water and salty broth and getting my calves and feet massaged in all sorts of ways. The calves eventually gave in and released, but the feet stubbornly held their ground. Finally, everyone including me agreed that I just needed to walk this one off, and so I shuffled my way back toward my hotel.
I was really sad about this, as my running team was gathering to take a team photo, and I was going to miss it. But the team photo location was about three blocks to the east, and my hotel was a block and a half to the west, and I just couldn't do it.
When I got back to my room, I eased my way carefully into the shower. I ran warm water over my feet, and they instantly released. I spent a long time in the shower, wallowing in the sensation of non-cramping feet.
***
Splits ended up being:
Mile 1 (partial): 3:09 for .36 of a mile
Mile 2: 8:41
Mile 3: 8:18
Mile 4: 8:13
Mile 5: 8:36
Mile 6: 8:34
Mile 7: 8:21
Mile 8-10: 25:12 (includes shoe fixing)
Mile 11: 8:08
Mile 12: 8:04
Mile 13: 8:02
Mile 14: 8:12
Mile 15: 8:23
Mile 16: 7:55
Mile 17: 8:34
Mile 18: 8:29
Mile 19: 8:19
Mile 20: 8:49
Mile 21: 9:36
Mile 22: 8:41
Mile 23: 9:06
Mile 24: 8:42
Mile 25: 9:40
Mile 26 plus last .21: 12:26 - roughly 10 minute pace.
So a positive split by about 6 minutes - 1:50/1:56. As blow-ups go, it doesn't look awful in print. But it was not fun at all.
Other notes:
- The weather ended up being pretty good. Low to mid-50s and dry. It was a clear day with no clouds to block the sun, which made the final miles feel warmer than they were. A moderate headwind during the Newton hills also added to the challenge there. But overall, a great day for running.
- Every time I run a BAA race as a para-athlete, I get a small glimpse of the work the BAA does behind the scenes. And I always leave impressed by how much work goes into these races, the professionalism of the BAA staff, and how much they care. I truly believe that the BAA staff work as hard or harder than the runners on Boston Marathon weekend, and it shows in both little and big ways.
- I ended up winning the women's T35-38 division and also would have won the men's T35-38 division (this was another goal I had). I didn't hit my third goal of breaking my course record - that will have to be another year.
- My downhill running was not great but was substantially improved over last year, so that was win.
- In retrospect, squeezing Cherry Blossom and the Boston 5K into the two weeks before the marathon compromised my marathon performance. (For the record, my coach told me a week ago that he thought doing the 5K was a bad idea.) The physical fatigue would have been manageable, but I failed to account for the mental fatigue from three very crowded and high profile races in such a short period of time. Additionally, the increased rest and departure from my normal routine really messed with my management of my Parkinsons. Next year, I will focus on the marathon.
- I also had the goal of running sub 3:30 on this course to get under the high performance standard for my division for next year. Obviously, I didn't do that. This isn't totally surprising, as running Boston, especially as a coordination impaired runner in the separate para-athlete start, is really challenging.
In addition to the deceptively tricky course that all runners try to master, the T35-38 crowd is also challenged by the continuing changes in incline, the stretches of rough pavement, the train tracks, the balance checks triggered by the activity of the enthusiastic Boston crowds, and the chaos of being passed from behind by masses of faster runners. Those are all things that never bothered me before Parkison's but are real obstacles now.
To run my fastest marathon time, I need a different race (as well as a better training cycle). But that's for the fall. The spring, and Boston, is about competition against my peers. And I'm very grateful to have that opportunity.
- One of the obstacles to my training this spring was the multiple surgeries that our new, incredibly sweet kitten Karma endured to repair a fistula that appeared right after adoption. Each surgery was two weeks of disrupted training and reduced sleep as I cared for her. I knew this was not good for my marathon training, but my other choices were to return her or euthanize her, and neither was a choice. So we fought on.
Three days post-marathon, I brought Karma in for a routine check-up, and the vet and staff were shocked by how good she looked. Prioritizing her over higher mileage was worth it.
- One of the really nice things that the BAA does is make a big deal of the trophy presentations for the marathoners. It's my blog and my parents like stuff like this, so I'll end this post with the trophy photo.
